The Closet Italian

When my cousin's family came to visit just a couple of weeks ago, they arrived in Detroit in mid-afternoon. Since they were attending a baseball game that night, it is an hour from the airport to our house, and another hour from our house back to the ball field, all in different directions and assuming traffic is slightly cooperative in the metro-Detroit area, they chose to eat a nice dinner and go straight to the game prior to spending the night at our house.

They ate at Giovanni's, according to reviews the best Italian in at least Southeast Michigan, if not the entire state. Jeff, Jennifer, and Meredith all spoke highly of it.

So we're talking about it the next day on the way to Frankenmuth, and Caboose hears us say the name of the restaurant.

"That is such a cool name. Now I have my fourth name. Luigi, Giovanni, Erica, and Whitney." Those are the names of the four children he's planning to have some day. He'd been struggling to find that fourth name.

See, it's been about a month since he told us he was going to have to find a wife that liked the name Luigi. Apparently the ones he's willing to fight for are Luigi and Erica. We told he might need to marry into a good Italian family if he had hopes for Luigi, although if he gets his way and you put it with our last name, he will get his fair share of strange looks.

Of course he is only ten years old. Planning his future, but still ten years old.